


Life for a Life

by AceCavalier



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Claude is a witch, Dimitri is a vampire, Dimitri's Emotional Support Claude, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Existential Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Struggling to Come to Terms with Your Cursed Immortality, in a vampire way not in a kinky way I swear, it's a vampire fic so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-09-24 11:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceCavalier/pseuds/AceCavalier
Summary: There is madness in the blood of every man. Alive in them from the moment they take their first breath, bred into each and every one of them, curled dormant in their hearts and minds. It is inevitable, inescapable, as vital to their existence as the blood in their veins, as certain as death. All men will become the monsters they are taught to fear.A monster just like him.(Discontinued)





	1. The Demon of the Monastery

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to write vampire AU for Three Houses and that I'd focus on fluffier, happier stuff instead but then I remembered that I'm absolutely vampire trash. 
> 
> I went back and updated the end of the first chapter as of September 16, just to make it flow a bit better and seem less jarring.
> 
> As a content warning, if you hadn't guessed it from the word 'vampire', there will be descriptions of blood and gore throughout the fic, and later chapters mayyyy have some mildly explicit content?? Undecided on that front.

There is madness in the blood of every man. Alive in them from the moment they take their first breath, bred into each and every one of them, curled dormant in their hearts and minds. It is inevitable, inescapable, as vital to their existence as the blood in their veins, as certain as death. All men will become the monsters they are taught to fear.

A monster just like _him_.

Dimitri’s fingers tightened around the head of the latest fool to visit his ruin abode in the mountains of Garreg Mach. The poor man was only a few years older than him. Did he have a family, a lover, friends who cared for him? All the things Dimitri had never had? It hardly mattered now. A garbled wail from the fool’s bloodied lips fell silent as his skull cracked and crunched in Dimitri’s grip, and the body went limp. Dimitri let it fall to the ground, raising his fingers to his lips and licking at the warm, red liquid spilled over them. The only thing in this world he could taste, the only thing he desired.

Kneeling down before the body, Dimitri lifted it, gently manoeuvring it to expose the pale skin of the neck, decorated with streaks of fresh, gleaming crimson. The smell of it was overwhelming, consuming his senses, incapacitating thought.

“Life for life,” he croaked. “Your life for mine. We’re all just flesh in the end, after all.”

The body was warm, the blood still flowing beneath the skin. Just a brush of his teeth against the bulging vein and it burst free against his mouth, hot and thick and plentiful, and Dimitri lapped at it like a kitten at milk.

How long until the next fool came along? It had been a month since his last proper meal; the rats and insects that dwelled here with him were little more than meagre crumbs, their blood thin and bitter, their flesh tough and tasteless. Dimitri drank deep, relishing the sensation of heat in his throat and belly, a warmth so hard to find these days. He drank until the fool had nothing more to give, until his body had gone white and withered, and pulled back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he stood, lifted the wasted body by one limp arm, and dragged it out of the cathedral.

A crescent moon illuminated his terrible walk to edge of the monastery battlement. He looked out across the silver glow of the mountains, their jagged peaks like the sharp white fangs of a beast – a beast like him. Then he hurled the body over the rampart, listening to the crunching of bone and armour as it tumbled down the rocks. Down to join the corpses of all the others.

Dimitri had taken his first step back into the cathedral when a strange scent stopped him.

It was familiar to him yet difficult to place – where had he encountered such a baffling scent before? That it was human was unmistakable, there was no smell he knew better than that of human blood, but something to it was… off. _Tainted_. Not rotten or fouled, no, but tampered with, disguised. Dimitri’s lip curled in distaste.

“A bit late for dinner, am I?” a cool voice called to him. “What a shame. I was hoping we might sit down, have a chat, get to know each other a little…”

The cathedral was empty save for him and the many piles of rubble that littered the dust-covered floor, yet the voice seemed close, and the scent was strong – strong enough to make Dimitri feel ill. He realised now why it was familiar, and why it was so strange; only one sort of person carried a smell like that.

“Witch,” he snarled. “There’s time yet for dessert, if you’d join me.”

“Oh? Well, I might just be in luck.” The voice had moved, but Dimitri could catch no sign of its owner. “Unless, that is, you were hoping to put _me_ on the menu. I have to warn you: that’s not a very good idea.”

Dimitri began making his way towards the altar at the back of the cathedral, twisting his head back and forth to try and keep any potential hiding place in view – curse his blindside!

“Ha. From the man who wandered into a vampire’s den, I’m not sure you’ve got a firm grasp on good and bad ideas.”

He had reached the massive pile of stone and iron that for many years had served as his lonely throne, fit only for the monstrous king that he was.

The witch laughed. “That’s a fair point, I’ll admit. I was in town, see, and people were complaining about their sons and husbands going to the monastery to fight a demon but never returning. I couldn’t just turn down people in need, could I?”

“You should have.”

Dimitri stood at the foot of his throne and turned, facing the open cathedral. Aside from a few streaks of silver moonlight, his den was a haven for shadows. This was his home, his territory, and had been for many years. No fool witch was going to drive him out now.

The flash came from his right, his blind side, and would have caught him unawares had it not been for the hiss of a bowstring. It was only thanks to his inhuman speed that he was able to duck in time, the red light darting by precisely where his head had been a moment before. Dimitri whirled towards the source, his teeth, still reddened from his earlier meal, bared in a snarl. At last, he saw his quarry, darting from shadow to shadow, his form magically distorted to appear almost transparent; now that Dimitri had laid eyes on him, however, the spell was useless.

With a roar, he charged forward, and the witch, realising he’d been spotted, hurriedly clambered up a nearby rubble pile, bright light flaring from another nocked arrow. This time, Dimitri was too close to doge it; he felt it thunk into his shoulder and burning pain surge across his skin, but he ignored it, leaping up in a single bound and seizing the witch by the front of his tunic. Fear flashed across the man’s green eyes as he dropped his bow, reaching out his hands to try and fend Dimitri off, but Dimitri simply threw him, hurling him to the ground. He scrambled to find purchase on the tiles, trying desperately to stand, but Dimitri was on him again in an instant, kicking him down. There was a breathless gasp from the witch as Dimitri’s boot slammed into his back, pressing him down onto the floor.

“So fragile…” growled Dimitri, yanking the arrow from his shoulder and tossing it aside. He leaned down, forcing more of his weight onto the witch’s back. “I'll enjoy the song of your snapping bones...”

But his prey was stubborn; the witch rolled, knocking Dimitri off-balance, and swung his leg out in a kick aimed for his knee. It struck before Dimitri could catch himself and he buckled as the witch scooted out of arm’s reach and made a dash for his fallen bow. Dimitri charged after him, catching up just as the witch dived for his weapon, and leapt. Their bodies collided and they rolled. For a moment they grappled with one another, the mouse desperate to escape the wolf's jaws, before Dimitri managed to knock the bow free of his enemy’s hold and pin him down, his hands around the witch’s neck. His prey captured, Dimitri tightened his hold and began to squeeze.

Fear was replaced with panic. The witch writhed under his grip, ripping at Dimitri’s arms and beating at his chest, trying to kick and struggle to no avail as Dimitri’s focus honed in on one single thought: _blood_. Two meals in a single evening – it seemed his luck was turning. His lips, still bloodied from his earlier drink, pulled into a wicked grin, the tips of his fangs glinting in a shaft of silver moonlight, as the witch’s struggles weakened, slowed. Another poor fool fallen victim to the monster’s rage.

The witch’s hand dropped to his side. He seemed to grab something, but Dimitri was too focused on the strained efforts of his victim’s lungs, the panicked pulsing of his heart, the certain promise of blood, to really take notice. Then a hand covered his face and his sense were filled with the most acrid, bitter stench Dimitri had ever encountered. He reeled back, victim forgotten, as the reek assaulted his nose, making his good eye water. Coughing and retching, he tried to get back up, to make certain the witch paid for his little trick, but his legs slipped out from under him, refusing to obey his commands. A painful, sparking sensation was spreading across his skin from his toes and fingertips, rendering his limbs useless. Realising this, he tried to get up once more, tried to run, but it was too late; he collapsed to the ground, snarling with outrage, trembling and shaking from the sheer effort of trying to move.

“I wouldn’t bother if I were you,” the witch panted. “It’s a rare powder that can cause paralysis to any creature that breathes it in – including vampires, apparently. It should wear off in an hour or so, but until then, you’re stuck.”

It was dawning on Dimitri that the witch was right. No matter how desperately he willed his muscles to move, they simply wouldn’t respond. He was trapped.

The witch knelt down in front of him, allowing Dimitri a good, clear look at him: young, likely Dimitri’s own age, and rather handsome, even with the red marks on his neck and his brown hair dishevelled from their struggle. He had a grin on his face that made Dimitri’s gut twist.

“Kill me,” Dimitri spat.

The grin stuttered. “…What?”

“That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? To put an end to the monster? Do it. Kill me!”

To his surprise, the witch hesitated, frowning down at him. There was pity in that look, an awful sort of pity, that if Dimitri hadn't been paralysed he would have thoroughly enjoyed crushing beneath his fingers. Hate, he could accept – there was no hate he could see in the eyes of others that would rival the hate in his own heart – but pity? Dimitri wanted no pity.

“_Kill me!”_

The man shook his head, leaning back to sit in front of him, arms resting on his knees. "I didn't come here to kill you."

"Then why? _Why are you here?"_

It would do him no good now, but a sudden rage was stirring in him. This stranger, this _witch_, had walked into his home and brought him down, only to refuse to kill him? Would he capture his quarry and parade him around like a beast in a cage? Subject him to twisted experiments? At least here, in the monastery, Dimitri could let the meaningless passing of time drift by in a half-nightmare between each intruder, between each kill. If he couldn't have that, he would much rather death, even if it terrified him.

"I wanted to meet you in-person, Dimitri."

The words rendered him speechless for a moment. How long... How long had it been since he'd heard his name spoken?

The shock on his face must have been obvious. "Aha! So I was right. When the townsfolk told me about '_the demon of the monastery__'_, I decided to do some research. You weren't always a vampire, were you?"

When Dimitri tried to nod and couldn't, he gave a grunt instead.

"Of course. You were just a human once, like the rest of us." The witch nodded to himself. "My name's Claude, by the way. Like I said, I came here to meet you, not kill you. Actually, I thought I might be able to help you."

"You can't," snarled Dimitri. "I'm a _monster_, nothing more. I cannot be saved."

Claude shook his head again and winced, lifting a hand to rub at his rapidly-bruising neck. "I'm not sure I believe that. If you really _were_ just a monster, why do you spend so long cooped up in a ruin, minding your own business? Look, this might sound strange, but... I want to help you. I want to see if there's a way to make you... human again."

Dimitri was silent for a long time.

_Human again_. Ever since the day he'd become this creature, he had wanted nothing more. He had wanted so badly he would happily have died for it. Had hoped that maybe, if he tried hard enough, if he truly willed it, he could find a way, any way, to go back to what he used to be and finally wake from his living nightmare... But it wasn't possible. No matter what he or anyone did, nothing could change what he was now. A vampire. A savage beast. What made this Claude think he could achieve the impossible?

“…Why?”

A shrug from Claude. “Honestly? I’m not so sure. I guess I have a soft-spot for supposed monsters. And, though it's hard to believe, I think you deserve a second chance."

“You’re wrong,” Dimitri grimaced.

“We’ll see.”

Claude rose and reached into the satchel hanging from his hip. He fiddled with a few vials and bundles before pulling out a handful of dried flower petals and leaning down, shoving them in front of Dimitri’s nose. The sickeningly sweet scent struck him like a slap, and he recoiled, shoving Claude’s hand away.

“Enough!” He scrubbed at his nose, trying to rid himself of the scent, and paused, realising, with a start, that he could move again.

“Sorry. It’s an antidote for that powder.”

He extended a – now thankfully empty – hand towards him, an offer to help him to his feet. Dimitri’s eye narrowed.

“I could kill you,” he said quietly, a warning. “Easily. Break your neck and drink every last drop of you before you could stop me.”

“Yeah, you could,” shrugged Claude. “But I don’t think you will. You want to be human again, Dimitri. You want to know if there's really a chance I could save you, right?"

Dimitri hesitated. Nine years of isolation, of hiding away in the shadows and rubble like the rat that he was, of feeding on the lives of others, crawling in blood and dirt, becoming more and more of a monster… Never, in all that time, had anyone ever treated him like anything other than a beast, an enemy, a creature to be destroyed. Dimitri had never expected to be treated any differently. And yet, Claude stood before him now, reaching out to him with the first smile Dimitri had seen in nearly a decade. He would have sworn it was a trap, but there was something about Claude, something he couldn’t place, that made Dimitri want to trust him…

To be human again. Was it really possible?

Ignoring Claude’s outstretched hand, Dimitri rose, still a little unsteady on his feet.

“You’re mad,” he said.

“Yeah, probably. And you, despite your best efforts, want to believe me anyway”

“…Yes.”

“Then it’s settled. You come along with me, and I’ll see if I can’t make a human out of you. Somehow. And to start with, I'm going to need you to behave yourself - you try and attack me or anyone else, and you'll be reacquainted with that special paralysis powder of mine, alright?”

Dimitri nodded.

Human... Even if it could be done, if the changes done to him could be reversed, did he deserve it? After the years he had spent living the life of a beast? After all the blood he had not only spilled, but consumed, and enjoyed consuming? No; Claude was wrong, of course. He was a monster, nothing more - and he would always be a monster. But perhaps, even just for a little while, he could let himself entertain the idea. Maybe he could pretend, against all reason, that it was possible to at least _feel_ human again, to leave the dust and darkness of the monastery behind and walk once again in a world that welcomed him. And when, inevitably, Claude came to his senses and realised that the monster he smiled at and beckoned to follow him truly couldn't be saved, he would put an end to Dimitri's curse and send him to flaming hell he feared so much. At the very least, it would be nice to be sent there by someone he could consider a companion.

It might have been a witch's magical charm, but as Claude retrieved his pack and led him through the monastery's great doorway into the moonlight, Dimitri felt a strange calm settle over him, a sensation he hadn't experienced in a very long time. 

Perhaps this adventure, however short or fruitless it might be, was his final glimpse of something close to content before, finally, he could close both eyes and rest.


	2. A Chivalrous Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travelling with a vampire is not for the faint of heart. Travelling with a witch is nothing short of interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to address some of the ideas that I brushed over in the first chapter, and seeing as people seem to be enjoying it so far I thought I could go ahead and start increasing the chapter length. Let me know what you think!
> 
> There'll be more action in the next chapter, and a few familiar faces...  
Enjoy!

Dimitri was hungry.

Two weeks he had been travelling with the enigmatic but charming Claude, leaving the shadows and dust of the abandoned Garreg Mach Monastery behind and venturing into the world he had kept himself isolated from for nearly nine years. It had terrified him at first, the idea of leaving the comfort of his known state and stepping into the very thing he had denied himself for so long, but Claude’s easy nature and baffling disregard of the many ways this adventure could go wrong had become strangely comforting to him, and he had found himself relying on Claude’s calm humour to quell his own anxiety.

That, of course, hadn’t been enough to prepare him for when they’d reached a nearby town. They’d been here, in this particular town, for nearly a week, and Dimitri was finding it unbearable. He had been afraid of what he’d do, how he would cope with being surrounded by the overwhelming scent of blood, having it fill his senses every waking second and be unable to act on the instinct it stirred deep in his gut. Claude had, at least, thought to hang a string of garlic flowers around his neck to try and distract him, and it _had_ helped, but it had now been two weeks since he’d eaten anything and his hunger was beginning to override his self-control.

Dimitri stood stiffly beside Claude as he eyed the various fruits and vegetables of a market stall, one hand scrubbing at the beginnings of a beard. Unlike Dimitri, who wore a long black cloak with the hood up to help conceal him from the sun – and to hide the bloodstains on his armour and the flowers tied around his neck – Claude’s attire proudly announced exactly what he was. Passer-by’s eyed the bundles of herbs and dried flowers peaking out from his satchel and pockets, or from small sacks tied to his belt. He wore a shawl decorated in patterns of gold and green that bore almost no resemblance to the styles of Fódlan and never failed to catch attention; and as various townsfolk eyed Claude, Dimitri eyed them, unable to stop himself from wondering how their blood would taste…

He shuddered, trying to shake the thoughts away. _Control yourself, dammit! These are innocents, you will not harm them!_ He curled his fingers into fists, wishing the sharpened claws of his gauntlets could dig through the metal and into the flesh of his palm, a sharp pain to distract him from the hunger. Instead, there was merely the soft screech of metal scratching metal. It was loud enough to catch Claude’s attention and notice his discomfort.

“Holding up alright, Dimitri?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Dimitri just shook his head. His hair was long enough to cover the scarring over his right eye, but Claude had insisted on making him wear on eye patch to look less intimidating; the leather felt irritating against his skin, almost as bad as the itching from the flowers against his neck.

Claude’s tone didn’t betray his concern, if he felt any. “I suppose it _is_ getting late, must be time for dinner. Come on, let’s head back to the inn.”

Once they were out of earshot of the vendor, Claude stepped closer to Dimitri and nudged him with an elbow.

“You’ve had that same grimace on your face all day, and I’m starting to worry that it’s going to become permanent. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dimitri grunted.

“Sure, sure, and I’m an ordinary everyday citizen. You know, if you tell me, I might be able to help.”

“You can’t.”

For a long moment he watched Dimitri, searching his face, but found nothing, and gave up with a shrug.

The inn they’d been staying at was thankfully close to the marketplace. Inside there were fewer people, and the stink of alcohol and piss usually helped to distract Dimitri, but tonight it made no difference. The longest he’d gone without human blood was three months and it had been sheer torture, even with the rats to help, but the energy required to travel so much and always in daylight had clearly drained him more than usual.

Dimitri sat himself down at a small table in a back corner of the inn, away from its few other patrons, while Claude went to speak with the innkeeper. A few minutes later he returned with two steaming wooden bowls.

“It actually doesn’t smell half-bad tonight,” he said, sitting himself down and sliding one of the bowls towards Dimitri, “though he couldn’t say what the meat was. Well, it’s better than nothing.” He had a dripping spoonful halfway to his mouth when he noticed his companion hadn’t budged. “Look, don’t let the colour put you off, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I can’t eat it,” grumbled Dimitri, folding his arms across his chest. “You know you I can’t.”

“I know you _won’t_. Have you ever tried eating food like this since, uh…?”

“No.”

“Well, why not try it? Just this once. And if you don’t like it, I’ll stop pestering you, I promise.”

The bowl of brownish-yellow broth met Dimitri’s glower with indifference. He leaned forward, sniffed at it, and immediately gagged. The smell wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but even just the thought of consuming something other than blood or raw flesh caused his body to reject the idea, and violently. He had to turn away and cover his mouth to stop himself from retching.

Claude clicked his tongue. “Alright, point taken. Guess that means more for me.”

For once, Dimitri was glad his stomach was empty, especially when he turned back to see Claude happily digging in. He _had_ tried to eat normal food since his turning – years ago, shortly after he had been changed. He had been so desperate to be human again, to go back to the way he was, that he had forced himself to eat the foods he used to, and been sick for weeks as a result. Even remembering the experience made him nauseous, so he tried to distract himself by inspecting the scattered townsfolk at the other tables. A poor idea that only served to remind him of his aching hunger.

“You seem even grouchier than usual,” Claude noted between mouthfuls. “Is something wrong? You’re not getting sick of me already, are you?”

It was no surprise that Claude had noticed. He was observant and clever, Dimitri had realised that within a day of travelling with him, and however nonchalant he might act, there was little that escaped his notice. There was a good chance Claude already knew exactly what was causing Dimitri’s sour mood, but still, Dimitri considered not telling him. What would he think? That Dimitri was a mindless animal, an insatiable beast, who craved nothing but blood? Whose very existence hinged on nothing but where to find his next victim? It wasn’t far from the truth, he supposed. That’s all vampires were, and he was one of them now.

His scowl was dark enough to make even Claude pause.

“I’m hungry.”

The words rumbled out as a growl, angrier than he had intended. His temper was shortening with his growing hunger. Claude, however, just nodded.

“Ah. I thought that might be it – I saw the way you’ve been looking at some of the townsfolk, like you might jump out of your skin.”

Dimitri winced. “And you did nothing about it? You would have let me just…?”

“I guess I was curious to see what you would do.” Claude set aside the first bowl and dragged Dimitri’s untouched meal closer. “Of course, if you’d tried anything, I had a plan in place to stop you, but I wanted to at least give you a chance. You’ve been trying to fight it off, to resist it. Why?”

The question made him bristle more than it should have.

“Why do you think?” he hissed. “These people, they… They’re innocent. I can’t… I won’t just…” He huffed and shook his head. “Hard as it might be to believe, I take no joy in doing what I must to survive.”

A lie, but only in part. He didn’t want to kill anyone, of course, but when the scent of blood took over…

“What about the hunters who came to the monastery?”

“It was me or them. I warned each of them to stay away, and they chose not to listen.”

Claude had made it a few mouthfuls through his second bowl before giving up and leaning back in his seat. “And if you got hungry enough to go looking…?”

“Bandits, thieves, murderers.”

“I see. A vampire with a moral compass is probably a strange idea for most people. I’ll ask around about any known bandits in the area tomorrow and we can go find a few – sound alright?”

Dimitri only grunted. His heart dreaded the thought of having to kill yet again, but the dark part of his mind, the part he tried so hard to shut out, burned with excitement. With _greed_. He hurriedly locked it away, hoping Claude hadn’t spotted the sudden flash in his eye. If he had, Claude gave no indication and instead rose from his seat. Dimitri followed suit and the two of them retreated to their shared room upstairs; two beds, one left with the blankets hanging over the side and scattered with books and herbs, the other completely untouched.

As they entered, Dimitri paused. His heightened ears had caught a peculiar sound: a soft, rapid skittering across the wooden floor. He was moving before he’d even decided to, his instincts taking total control of his muscles, the ferocious speed of a vampire launching him from the doorway to a far wall of the room faster than Claude could blink. Clawed gauntlets snatched out, plunging into the shadows, and seized something small and wriggling.

Victorious, Dimitri turned, his hand wrapped around the brown body of an impressively large rat that squirmed and squeaked in protest, its fur speckled with dirt and filth. Tightening his hold on it, he lifted the poor creature up and opened his mouth; even the bitter blood of a rodent would serve as a sweet treat for him at this stage. He was already imagining the feel of his sharp teeth biting through flesh, already anticipating the hot blood on his tongue, when Claude gave a yelp.

“_What are you doing?!_”

Dimitri, the unfortunate rat held just inches from his mouth, paused and shot Claude a questioning look.

“… Eating.”

“A _rat?!_”

It squealed as Dimitri frowned. “I told you, Claude, I’m _hungry_.”

Hurriedly shutting the door, Claude rushed over to him.

“Look, just, put the rat down, will you? I’m not gonna let you eat that thing. Give it to me.”

He reached for it and Dimitri shoved him back, holding him at arm’s length as he opened his mouth again. This time he got as close as being able to feel its whiskers on his lips before Claude broke free and grabbed his arm, yanking it back.

“Do not eat the rat, Dimitri!”

With his strength, it would have been easy to simply toss Claude aside and get to his meagre snack in peace, but the notion was clearly bothering his companion, and Dimitri didn’t have the patience to endure his whining if he went ahead. So, with a sigh, he shut his mouth and let Claude pull his arm away. The man wasted no time in prying Dimitri’s fingers open, extracting the now very fortunate rat and dropping it to the ground. Dimitri watched it scamper away with a wistful look. Next time…

The rat safely out of reach, Claude turned back to Dimitri with a frown.

“I think I underestimated just how badly you needed to drink. Guess I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

Dimitri tensed. “I do not need you to care for me.”

“Then why go this long without saying anything? I know you don’t like it, but if it’s really troubling you…” Claude’s gaze turned serious. “Are you… You’re not trying to starve yourself for my sake, are you?”

“Not for your sake, no. I said nothing because…” He faltered. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. I won’t say I know much about you, Dimitri, but from the time we’ve spent together I’m starting to learn a thing or two. I know for certain that you don’t enjoy being a vampire.”

Dimitri just grunted, so Claude continued.

“I can’t imagine why you would, really, though the infinite lifespan and inhuman power are probably useful… Anyway. You’ve been trying to avoid feeding yourself this whole time, right? Even before we started passing through towns. I thought maybe you just didn’t need to feed very often, but that’s not the case at all. You’ve been _starving_ yourself.”

At the accusation, Dimitri looked away, scowling sullenly at the town beyond the room’s single window, where grey clouds fought to smother a golden sunset.

“Perhaps.” He offered after a moment.

Claude’s tone had lightened again. “A chivalrous vampire. You know, I’ve done a fair bit of research into vampires. Read all about what ‘horrible monsters’ they are, how they’re _‘wicked demons defiling the Goddess’s blessed earth’_ and all that.” Dimitri flinched. “I wanted to find out for myself, so when I heard about a vampire in Garreg Mach I thought I’d investigate. Turns out, you’re nothing like what the stories say.”

The last ember of sunlight was swallowed up in the storm clouds, and with it, Dimitri felt a strange heaviness in his throat.

“The stories are right,” he warned. “Think what you may, but I _am_ a monster. That cannot change.”

Claude shrugged and walked past him towards his side of the room, unwinding the shawl he kept wrapped around his shoulders and beginning to remove his various sacks and satchels.

“If you really thought that, why did you agree to come along with me? Unless, of course, it was just to enjoy my wonderful company.”

His supplies stashed beside the bed, Claude begun to unbutton the loose tunic he wore and tug it down from his shoulders, cleared enough books that he had room, and sat himself down on the mattress, eliciting a miserable creak from it. Underneath the tunic, a layer of cloth was wrapped around his chest. Dimitri watched him without moving.

Why _did_ he agree to this? Even back when he had first left the monastery’s ruins, the answer had been unclear to him. So that, finally, he might find an end to this wretched existence at the witch’s hands - that’s what he had told himself. But that wasn't the only reason. Something else had lured him out from his miserable, half-dead state.

_Because I still have hope… hope that I may be redeemed… that I’m not a monster after all…_

He silenced the thought immediately. He _was_ a monster, one who killed to sustain his own life, who slaughtered innocents in the name of survival, who drank blood and _enjoyed_ it. A monster with the face of a man.

But Claude had surprised him. Had stirred something that had slept for many years, so still for so long that Dimitri had forgotten it existed. Something that made him feel _human_ again. And whether he deserved it or not, Dimitri _wanted_ it, wanted it more than he had ever wanted blood or life or anything else. To be human again.

The whole time Dimitri had been lost in his thoughts, Claude had waited, silent and patient, for an answer. It had been wonderful and terrifying, this strange companionship. Despite every warning and every threat, Claude had stubbornly continued to treat Dimitri like anything but a monster, had even treated him like a human, and it had made him _feel_ human. How wonderful to feel human again, how terrifying to let himself be lured into hoping for what can never be.

“I…” his voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

“I think I do,” grinned Claude. “You might struggle to believe it, but I don’t think you’re a monster. Just like I don’t think witches are evil. The world likes to be scared of things it doesn’t understand, and I want to prove the world wrong. At the very least, I found your particular story interesting, and I wanted to try and help. So, here.”

He tilted his head to one side, exposing his neck, and tapped the skin above his jugular. Dimitri froze, unable to stop the way every cell in his body was suddenly straining against him.

“C-Claude…!”

The smell of Claude’s blood – rich, even with the sickly-sweet notes of a witch’s magic – filled his senses, leaking past his self-control and into his core. He clamped his teeth together and covered his mouth and nose with his hand, not trusting himself to even look in Claude’s direction.

“Look, I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled about this,” huffed Claude, “but I don’t want you starving yourself. So, until we find something more… filling, you can – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – drink some of my blood. Only some!”

Dimitri shook his head furiously. Despite his efforts, the scent, which he had managed to ignore thanks to the menagerie of plants that Claude carried with him and the garlic flowers around his own neck to distract him, beat against his mind like a hammer at a nail, relentless and inescapable.

“Stop! Stop, please… I… I can’t…”

“Dimitri.”

Claude stood and stepped towards him, and Dimitri found himself rooted to the spot, torn between wanting to put as much distance between himself and the witch as possible, and wanting to lunge forward and seize him, tear into his throat, drain out every last drop of…

“Dimitri,” Claude repeated. “It’s just a sip, alright? If you get carried away, I’ll stop you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch, one Dimitri recognised as containing the vile powder that had paralysed him. Seeing it now was surprisingly reassuring. The hand covering his mouth lowered, trembling.

“Are… Are you… certain?”

“For the most part? Yes.” His gaze softened and his expression warmed. “Call me crazy, but I trust you.”

_Then you are crazy_, Dimitri wanted to say, but he no longer trusted himself to speak. He had never fed without killing his prey before, but perhaps, if he focused carefully enough, if he truly concentrated on keeping Claude alive, he could manage it. It struck him that he really _did_ wish to keep Claude alive, and the fear of losing the one friend he’d had in all this time nearly sealed his refusal, but he looked from Claude’s face to the pouch in his hand to his neck, and his stomach gave an impatient rumble.

Unsteadily, Dimitri took a step forward, then another, until he stood in front of Claude, looking slightly down at him. Claude had closed his eyes now, breathing deeply – perhaps in an effort to calm himself – and Dimitri could feel the vibration of his pulsing heart in the air between them, could almost hear it. The pungent reek of flowers clung to Claude’s skin, stinging his nose; were he not so ravenous, that scent and the bitter taste it signalled would have been enough to quell Dimitri’s appetite, at least until a more suitable meal came along. But with the way Claude tilted his head now, the vulnerability of that most vital vein, the closeness of blood, made even a witch’s sweetness seem appealing. He bent over slightly, lips hovering just an inch away, wondering if, should he need to, he could still pull away, still choose to fight the instinct to feed.

“Dimitri, just hurry up and – _ack!”_

The bite was quick. Practice had ensured that Dimitri knew exactly where to strike, how much strength was required to avoid unnecessary mess, and now he put it to use, taking painstaking care to make the bite no deeper than absolutely needed. Still, as his fangs pierced Claude’s skin and his lips pressed against the warmth, his mind turned to a single focus: blood.

It immediately rushed to meet his eager tongue, and the heat of it, the fullness of it, was so wondrous that he hardly even noticed the taste. He barely recognised the way his hands wrenched Claude closer, held him captive in their strength, or the way Claude gasped in pain, as he covered the small wound with his mouth and drank, sucking out greedy mouthfuls of the red liquid and swallowing it. Its heat warmed the frozen corpse that was his body, spreading steadily down his throat and filling his aching belly. How good it was to finally feed! He shut his eye and revelled in the satisfaction, basked in the way it burned, knowing that, soon, he would be filled…

“D-Dimitri…”

The strained voice struck him like a blow and he froze. In an instant he was once again aware of the world, of how limp Claude suddenly felt in his grip, how cold his skin had become against his lips, and realised what he was doing. _I have to stop! I cannot kill him!_ But a terrible, beastly instinct, something settled deep in the back of his mind, refused to let Claude go, refused to set aside the desperate need to drink and drink until his victim had nothing more to give... _No!_ He couldn't do that to Claude, not to the one person who had been willing to help him. Not to the one friend Dimitri had left in this world. It took the very last dregs of his strength to seal that primal instinct back in the shadowed edges of his mind and keep it there long enough enough to release his grip on Claude and pull his lips away from Claude's neck.

Dimitri lurched away as though he’d been shoved, wiping madly at the blood on his mouth, trying to speak around his gauntlets.

“I… I’m sorry, I… I’m so sorry…”

There was a terrible pallor to Claude’s face, and he swayed where he stood, but he managed to raise one hand to cover the wound, now reddened and swollen with blood still dribbling from two dark pinpoints.

“S’fine,” slurred Claude, waving his other hand, still holding the pouch, at him. “I’m glad you… were able to stop…” He staggered back to his bed, dropping onto it and sifting through one of his satchels. “Any more and… heh… could’ve been bad...”

He sounded breathless and woozy, and even sitting down he struggled to stay upright. That sight, and knowing he was the direct reason for it, knowing that he could have _killed_ Claude, made Dimitri’s stomach twist and threaten to empty itself. He’d drunk Claude’s blood, he’d hurt him, he’d nearly gone too far... What if he hadn't been able to stop? He couldn't bring himself to even imagine Claude's limp body in his arms, his face sunken and grey, lifeless. The thought alone was too much to bear, but Dimitri knew it was a very real risk. It had very nearly happened just a moment ago. Like a blow, it hit Dimitri just how unbearable, how gut-wrenchingly awful it would be to lose Claude.

The man in-question must have caught the horrified look on his face, as he grimaced.

“Don’t go wasting the blood I just gave you,” he managed to chuckle. “And don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Witches heal fast. I’m just… a little light-headed.”

Finding whatever he was looking for, he gave a soft _aha_ and pulled out a small jar. If the disgust at his actions hadn’t been enough to make him retch, the smell when Claude opened the jar very nearly did. Unbothered, Claude dipped two fingertips into the yellow-brown paste and dabbed it against the wound on his neck.

“A poultice,” he explained, still sounding a little slurred. “One of my own creations. Keeps down swelling and accelerates healing.” He wiped his fingers on the bed sheet underneath him and, thankfully, sealed the jar once more. “Feeling better?”

Physically? Much better. The body that had felt sluggish and sore was now coursing with strength, and without the distraction of hunger his mind felt clearer and sharper; but emotionally, mentally, he couldn't feel worse. What if that strength had come at the terrible cost of Claude's life? He swallowed thickly, still feeling sickened in a way he struggled to describe, not wanting Claude to see just how shaken he was.

“…Yes. Thank you.”

Claude nodded and kicked off his boots. “Good. That should tide you over until we find something better. I’m going to get some sleep – don’t go stealing any extra drops while I’m out, alright?”

His tone suggested that he was joking, but the idea still stung Dimitri. No matter how hungry that instinct in it became, no matter how fiercely it demanded Claude's blood, Dimitri would not take it. One thing was painfully clear to him now: he could not allow himself to hurt Claude. It had only been two difficult weeks, but Dimitri found himself bound to Claude in a way he had never expected. It was, he suspected, because it was Claude that had allowed him to feel so close to human after all this time, and if he was lost to Dimitri... That would be it. There would be nothing left for Dimitri.

Too caught up in his thoughts, by the time Dimitri made to reply Claude had already flopped back onto the bed and immediately passed out, still half-dressed and one leg dangling over the side. For Dimitri, however, there would be no sleep; a vampire had no need of it, even one that wanted to human. And as human as Claude made him feel, the twin puncture wounds on the witch's neck were a potent reminder. Dimitri _was_ a vampire. So, instead of sleep, he crossed to a corner of the small room closest to Claude and leaned against the wall, his eye fixed on the steady rise and fall of Claude’s chest, his mind a storm of indecision.

Could he really continue to risk Claude's safety for his own futile hopes?


	3. A Bloodied Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A person's history can haunt them. Sometimes it can try to hit them in the face with an axe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me so long to update!! This chapter is a big one to compensate, and Edelgard and Byleth finally arrive, but there's a fair bit of angst. Chapter updates will be more frequent now that I have my writing routine a bit more together - I already have the new few chapters planned out and I hope you'll like where it goes!
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think! <3

Something was wrong.

Claude’s chest ached as his lungs strained for air and his limbs felt too heavy to move. He opened his eyes to the sight of a red sky; it was dawn, he realised, staring up through a ring of bare-branched trees. The feeling of dread was suffocating. The world was too silent, the dawn’s light too… strange. And where was he?

After a moment’s struggle, Claude finally gained control of his arms and pushed himself up into a sitting position. His head spun for a moment, the world swirling and distorting around him, and when it cleared, he realised he was sitting near a small campsite. Three worn tents and a smouldering fire, all washed in the red light of the rising sun. Claude stiffened.

No, that wasn’t the light. That was _blood_.

Fear surged through him, giving him enough strength to scramble to his feet. He could see now that the blood blanketed not only the tents, but also the grass around him, spreading outwards from where he stood like a lake of crimson water. He was drenched in it, rivulets of it running down his clothes, his boots squelching with it as he tried to back away. When he raised a hand to his mouth, trying to cover it, he realised he felt blood there, too, warm against his fingertips. In fact, the blood was _in_ his mouth, pouring from it, welling up and out of his throat. When he tried to cough it out, more streamed endlessly forth until he was drowning in it. Panic set in as he realised what was happening, hands gripping at his neck, breathing the red heat into his lungs as he tried to suck in air.

A terrible, ragged scream echoed through the clearing. The blood in his throat momentarily forgotten, Claude whirled around and saw where the rapidly spreading pool stemmed from. He felt his skin turn to ice.

At the edge of the clearing stood a massive pile, easily twice Claude’s height, of corpses. Dozens of bodies, their pallid faces twisted in pain and fear, their skin grey, cheeks sunken, eyes black and staring at him. Standing at the foot of the pile, blood dripping from his lips and both eyes, was Dimitri. The look on his face was one of absolute terror.

Claude woke with a yelp. He was panting and sweating hard, as though he’d been running, and his legs and chest ached, but he was in the room he remembered, surrounded by familiar books and satchels. There was no trace of blood anywhere.

No trace of Dimitri, either, he realised with a start. The bed across from him, on which Dimitri usually sat during the night, was vacant. That stirred a sudden panic in Claude, almost as bad as the fear he’d felt in his dream. Had he left? Decided he’d had enough of Claude and crept away in the night?

“…Claude?”

The voice, oddly enough, soothed Claude almost instantly. He turned towards it and saw Dimitri sitting in the corner of the room, watching him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Claude gave a long sigh as he let the tension leave his sore body. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

“Oh.” Dimitri frowned and stood. “I… I’m sorry if…”

What was he sorry for? Claude went to tilt his head to the side and winced at the strain on his neck. Oh, _that_. He raised his hand to where his skin felt bruised and tight, and his fingers brushed over two small scabs. The poultice had done its work, at least; the skin around the wound wasn’t hot, and he couldn’t feel any significant swelling. Hopefully the bruising wouldn’t be too noticeable, but just in case he’d wear his shawl a little higher than normal. A quiet huff escaped him.

“Does getting your blood sucked usually give people bad dreams?” Claude would have to be more careful with his words in future, if the way Dimitri flinched was a good indication that he’d been too blunt. He gave himself a mental slap on the wrist. “Sorry.”

It took a moment for Dimitri to respond, long enough that Claude worried he’d gone too far and caused him to shut down like he often did. Then Dimitri shifted just a little, a sign that he wasn’t too deep in his own head, and coughed.

“I… don’t know,” admitted Dimitri. “I’ve… never…”

Oh, of course. People having their blood drained out of their neck probably didn’t get a chance to dream afterwards. Claude should consider himself lucky in that regard, he supposed; he could even use his experience as part of his research. _How Letting Your Vampire Friend Drink Your Blood Affects Sleep_. It was only half a joke.

After stretching his arms above his head and giving his sore back a twist, Claude tossed away the blanket covering him and rose from the bed. Or, rather, attempted to, as his head spun and he almost ended up right back on the bed again.

“Claude?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said hurriedly, one hand steadying himself against the wall. The poultice may have helped with the wound, but it seemed his body was still struggling to recover from having lost so much blood; not that he would admit that in front of Dimitri, gods no. It didn’t take a genius – and Claude fancied himself not far from one – to figure out just how severely that would damage Dimitri’s already tenuous mental state. Instead, he raised his free hand to his head and focused his energy there until a gentle warmth began to creep out from his palm, quickly settling his dizziness. One of the perks of being a witch.

Truth was, the experience of the night before had very nearly cost Claude more than he had expected. He had been perfectly aware of how dangerous it was to offer a vampire his blood, but with the extreme restraint Dimitri had shown around other humans even despite his hunger – and had shown around Claude since they’d started travelling together – had fooled even Claude into thinking that Dimitri had better control over himself then must have had. By the time he realised Dimitri was going too far, he had felt too weak to even use the powder he’d prepared; the only thing that had saved him was Dimitri pulling himself together in time.

As Claude dressed and re-equipped his arsenal of journals and supplies, being careful not to move his neck any more than he absolutely had to, he wondered just what it was that had stopped Dimitri from killing him. While he wanted to say it was his irresistible charm, he doubted that was the case. If anything, it was likely the promise that Claude had made to him the first night they’d met, that Claude would try to make Dimitri human again. It seemed that Dimitri truly believed it was possible, or at least had faith that Claude could attempt it. Enough to keep him alive, anyway.

By the time Claude was ready to go, laden with pouches, his bow and quiver slung across his torso, and his traveller’s pack stuffed as full as physically possible, Dimitri hadn’t budged from his corner. He skulked there like an unhappy shadow, glowering at nothing in particular, his long blonde hair covering most of his face.

“Hey, Dimitri…”

The vampire started, jolted back to the present, his one blue eye blinking in surprise – what Claude wouldn’t give for just a single glimpse into the unyielding storm of thought beyond that sombre face.

“Listen, about last night… Don’t feel bad, ok? I was the one who asked you, and it was probably a bad idea, really. I didn’t realise how difficult it would be for you – which, in hindsight, was… not one of my best moments. But you stopped. You didn’t kill me even when you could have. Thank you.”

Dimitri’s expression darkened, and Claude’s heart sank a little.

“Do _not_ thank me,” he growled. “It’s only because of me that you were at risk of being killed at all.”

A fair argument, and one Claude struggled to rebut. Even if he could, he had a feeling Dimitri wasn’t in the mood to be talked out of his guilt. He shrugged, wincing a little at the twinge in his neck.

“Well, at any rate, it’s not a situation I’m going to put either of us in again. Let’s pick up a few supplies, see if we can get any information about bandits that need taking care of, and keep heading east. Now, could you help me with this?”

He waved a hand at the bulky pack slumped on the ground next to him and Dimitri’s shoulders heaved with a sigh, finally venturing out from the safety of his shadowed corner. Despite it weighing probably a third as much as Claude, Dimitri lifted it up and over his shoulder without so much as a grunt and led the way out of their room.

Breakfast was spent in continued silence. Dimitri sat scowling at the table as Claude downed both their helpings of porridge and what he hoped was bacon; he considered trying to start a conversation of some kind, but one look at the shadow across Dimitri’s face had him swallowing his words. Whatever dark corner the vampire had backed himself into it, he would be difficult to coax out.

Was he still agonising over the fact that he had very nearly sapped the life from Claude, that he had come so close to completely losing control? If that was the case, did losing Claude really terrify Dimitri so much? A flattering thought. Or perhaps Dimitri was too busy wondering why he hadn’t simply finished Claude off and been done with him, was considering whether he might suck him dry right then and there. It didn’t seem like the likely answer to Claude, but even after two weeks of travelling together he still struggled to read Dimitri, something that continued to surprise and frustrate Claude. Usually, reading people was one of his many strategies. It apparently failed to extend to vampires; or maybe Dimitri was just a special case.

Well, Dimitri was _definitely_ a special case, in regards to more than just his readability.

From the moment Claude had heard about the mysterious being that lurked in the monastery, killing only those who strayed too close, his curiosity had latched onto Dimitri and refused to let go until Claude had investigated. It still clung to him, pestering him with questions about who Dimitri had been before he was a vampire, why he lived the way he did, what drove him to starve and punish himself the way he did, and, most importantly of all, if there really was a way that Claude could make him human again, or at least as close as possible. These days Claude suspected there was something else, other than curiosity, that drew him to Dimitri, but he tried not to think about that.

Instead he stood, left a handful of gold on the table for their food and room, and stepped out of the inn with Dimitri in-tow, his hood pulled up and cloak tight around him to fend off the morning sunlight.

They reached the town’s market square and quickly fell into their usual habit of Claude gliding from stall to stall, chatting with the merchants and traders with his charming smile on full display, while Dimitri remained an ever-intimidating presence at his back, following him like a shadow. When the traders had asked about him their first day in town, Claude had explained that Dimitri was his hired bodyguard, and the lie had been convincing enough that no further questions had been asked. It helped that Dimitri wasn’t scowling quite as fiercely as he had been yesterday.

“It sounds like there’s a town beset by bandits just a few days’ walk south of here,” Claude said as they strolled along the narrow streets. “We’ll hire some horses to make the journey faster, I don’t want you getting hungry again. If you do, we might have to resort to some of those rats after all.”

He turned to look across at Dimitri, but the vampire had his head tilted to the side, apparently not listening; Claude huffed loudly and stopped, grabbing Dimitri’s arm to yank him to a standstill – or try to.

“Alright, Dimitri, I understand that the offer I made last night was probably a mistake, but if you refuse to talk to me about it then – _MMF!_”

His words were abruptly muffled as Dimitri clamped a gauntlet across his mouth. The steel was cold on his lips and smelt terribly, but his efforts to try and tug the hand away were fruitless.

_“Mmfm-tri! Lmf ‘e ffo!”_

Dimitri, in fact, did the very opposite. With his ridiculous strength, he grabbed the front of Claude’s tunic and _lifted_ him off the ground, hurriedly half-dragging and half-carrying him into a nearby alleyway where he, thankfully, set Claude down again.

“_FrmmfMF!_” Claude finally succeeded in prying Dimitri’s hand far enough away from his face to get a few coherent words out. “What are you _doing?!_”

“_Shh_,” Dimitri hissed, peering around the corner to the street they’d exited. He lifted his head, seeming to sniff at the air, then gave a growl as he ducked back behind the wall. “We need to leave.”

Claude tried to also take a look and see what Dimitri was talking about, but found himself being firmly pushed back.

“Why?” he snapped, batting Dimitri’s hand away from his shoulder. “What is it?

A grimace fell across Dimitri’s face. “Hunters.”

“What, like game hunters? Come on, Dimitri, that’s not…”

“_Monster_ hunters.”

“Oh?”

Stories of the monster hunters that travelled across Fódlan, laying waste to creatures of the darkness in the name of the Imperial Church, were familiar to Claude, but he’d never run into one in person before. As well as being formidable fighters of great strength and courage, they were said to be extremely knowledgeable about the creatures they hunted, privy to texts and tales kept concealed by the Empire that ruled over all of Fódlan. Claude had been able to pick up information where he could, but most of it had been folklore and rarely based on any actual facts, and Dimitri had offered him surprisingly little about the way vampires worked, aside from a few details about their dietary habits and sleep patterns.

This could be a great opportunity to finally gain some usable research.

“If we leave now they might not be able to trace us,” Dimitri was saying, looking for way to get out of the alley they stood in. “Claude, I can lift you up onto the roof there… Claude?”

When he turned back around, Claude was no longer there. Instead, he was stepping back out onto the well-trodden main street of the town towards the two figures he could see talking to a group of townsfolk. Their outfits were a combination of armour and elegant robes, dyed in bright reds, gold, and black; they clearly weren’t trying to be subtle. Though neither, he had to admit, was Claude.

“Hey there!” he called when he was close enough. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you two are monster hunters, right?”

The first figure, a woman with pale hair and a cutting gaze, turned to face him. Her hair was curled around a pair of what Claude at first thought were ornamental horns, but soon realised were probably _actual_ horns taken as a trophy of one of her undoubtedly many kills. Her armour was polished but bore many marks of use, and across her back she carried an axe nearly as long as she was tall – which wasn’t terribly high. Next to her, the other figure carried a sheathed blade and watched Claude with emotionless green eyes.

“You are correct,” the woman called back, standing her ground as Claude approached. “My name is Edelgard, and my companion is Byleth. Do you have business for us?”

Once he was close enough to speak without having to shout, Claude stopped and offered what he hoped was a passable Fódlan bow, careful to make sure the contents of his satchels remained where they should. The hunter, Edelgard, was eyeing him closely.

“Not exactly business, no. I actually had a few questions I wanted to ask you about the monsters you hunt, if you don’t mind. I hear you hunters are true fonts of wisdom on the monster front.”

Edelgard’s eyes narrowed, the look cold enough to send a shiver through Claude. “Is that so? And what would an ordinary citizen like yourself hope to do with such information? It’s certainly unusual for a mere traveller to be curious about such things… You are a traveller, I presume? Or a merchant?”

She gestured to the pouches tied to his belt. Before he could offer his usual answer about how he was a travelling medic with an interest in herbs – the easiest explanation he could offer without telling an outright lie – one of the townsfolk near Edelgard teetered up to her and said something in a low voice, too quiet for Claude to make out. From the way Edelgard’s eyes narrowed even further, however, Claude guessed it wasn’t good news for him. Maybe Dimitri had been right about them needing to leave.

“Aye, just… an ordinary traveller, like you say,” Claude answered, chuckling nervously. “My father always told me I was too curious for my own good, haha! You know, you’re probably busy, why don’t I just head on my way and…”

“Wait.” Edelgard’s tone left no room for argument. “You’re the one the reports have been about, are you not? The strange individual carrying strange brews and powders? Some people suspect that you’re a witch.”

“A witch?!” Claude tried to sound shocked, hoping the way he suddenly bristled wasn’t too obvious. “How ridiculous! I’m… a healer, that’s all. And _besides_, even if I _was_ a witch, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that, would there?” Even as the words started to bubble out of his mouth, Claude knew it was a bad idea. He just couldn’t help himself. “I mean, witches _help_ people, after all. If I was a witch, I would go around helping everyone I could, treating their illnesses, solving their problems, taking care of their enemies, all of that. Witches aren’t _monsters_.”

Really, he should know better – he _did_ know better. But sometimes his strong moral compass got the better of him. This was one of those times, and it couldn’t have picked a worse one.

Edelgard took a step towards him. “That sounds oddly like something a witch might say. Why don’t you hand yourself over so we can find out? It will be quicker for all of us that way.”

“You know, it would be even quicker if you just let me go…”

Another step. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Claude took a step back, wanting to keep some distance between them, and felt a familiar presence behind him. Edelgard’s eyes flicked away from him, to something beyond him, and her whole body stiffened.

“You…”

Stepping to the side, Claude looked up at Dimitri; his eye was fixed on Edelgard, and his expression… Was he… sad? The sound of clinking armour brought his attention back to Edelgard as she drew the axe from her back, the cold look on her face giving way to one of pure hatred as she gripped the axe’s handle.

“_You_. All these years I wondered where you’d crawled off to, and now, at last, I’ve found you. Now I can finally put an _end_ to you!”

“Hold on,” Claude looked from Dimitri to Edelgard. “You’ve met before?”

Dimitri just grunted, his eye still on Edelgard. Next to her, the hunter known as Byleth drew their sword – Claude was just close enough to notice a series of strange notches on the thin blade. This has gotten very bad, very quickly.

“Capture the witch,” Edelgard ordered her companion. “The vampire is _mine_.”

A strong hand grabbed Claude’s shoulder.

“Run,” Dimitri growled. When Claude started to argue, the grip on his shoulder tightened. “Run, _now!_”

He shoved Claude back with enough force that Claude nearly fell, but managed to keep his footing; he caught a brief glimpse of the green-eyed hunter running towards him before be turned on his feel and started running as fast as he could down the street.

Plan! He needed a plan, and quickly. Dimitri was strong, sure, but Claude had a feeling that hunters would be harder to take down than your average homegrown hero, and as for Claude, his magic was better suited to tricks and healing than to actual combat. As he was running and thinking, he felt something sharp wrap around his ankle and stumbled, hissing in pain. Then his foot was yanked out from under him, and Claude found himself rolling in the dirt and mud. Flipping onto his back, he sat up and saw what looked like small sections of the blade looped loosely around his leg, connected by some strange sort of cord; as he watched, they began to retract, pulled away from him and back toward its wielder, who was quickly gaining on him.

Claude staggered to his feet and reached for one of the pouches at his hip, hoping he’d found the right one, and covered nose as his hand reached in to grab a fistful of powder. Just as Byleth drew their arm back to swing again, Claude darted forward and thrust the powder into their face, where it exploded in a mist of white. Immediately Byleth began to cough and splutter, their sword dropping as they tried to scrub at their nose and eyes. The stinging was only temporary, but Claude had learned the hard way how irritating it could be.

Taking advantage of his opening, Claude clambered awkwardly up a stack of nearby crates and unslung his bow from the quiver tied around his torso. From up here, he could see Dimitri and Edelgard locked in combat, neither able to overpower the other – his theory about hunters being stronger than average seemed to be right. Which meant Claude had his work cut out for him. Nocking an arrow, he aimed it at Byleth, who was struggling to blink the tears from their probably burning eyes.

“Last chance to call a truce!”

Byleth looked up with a snarl and reached for his sword – a truce wasn’t likely, then. Claude drew the arrow back and fired, but Byleth side-stepped out of the way, sword in-hand once again and ready to swing. He vacated his spot atop the crates just as he heard the blade crash into them, followed by the sounds of assorted vegetables rolling across the ground. Oops. Claude turned to fire another shot but the strange whip-like blade was already swinging for him, and he barely ducked beneath a blow that might have removed his head. Darting around into a small street, he decided to change strategies.

If he couldn’t beat this hunter, he’d have to immobilise them.

Claude took a steadying breath and charged back around the corner. And straight into Byleth. They collided, stumbling and very nearly crashing to the ground together, but Claude managed to recover quickly enough to raise his hand to Byleth’s surprised face and focus his innate magic into a spell. Sparks danced across his skin and into his fingers where they combined to form a bright flash; Byleth gave a cry and threw their arm over their eyes. The poor hunter wasn’t having a great time of things so far. To make their day even worse, while they were blinded by the spell’s light, Claude took his bow in both hands and rammed it into the back of their head. There was a thunk, a moment of quiet as Byleth swayed, then they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

“Sorry! No hard feelings, ok?”

With one hunter taken care of, Claude started to sprint back down the street, hoping that Dimitri had managed to fare as well as he had, desperately praying that he hadn’t fared worse.

Thankfully, Dimitri was still on his feet when Claude once again had eyes on him, but he was locked in his struggle with Edelgard. He had managed to catch the handle of her axe as it had been swung down towards him for a potentially killing blow, it seemed, but they were stuck in a kind of stale-mate. Only, they _shouldn’t_ be.

Claude had experienced for himself just how powerful Dimitri could be – he had been easily strong enough to pick Claude up and literally throw him a good three or four yards, and Claude had sported a bruise for nearly week after the fact. So why wasn’t he tossing Edelgard aside, like he had Claude? Either she had strength to match a vampire’s or…

He didn’t have time to ponder it. Nocking another arrow, Claude focused his power once again – feeling a definite toll on his body this time – and drew, raising the bow to point at the two of them.

“Hey, Edelgard!”

The hunter looked up, the bizarre duel between her and Dimitri disturbed, as an amber light began to shine from the tip of the nocked arrow. They were still standing close together; a difficult shot, but not impossible. Claude fired. Edelgard jumped back, her axe released from Dimitri’s grasp, but she wasn’t fast enough; the arrow struck her shoulder, the amber light appearing to burst upon impact. It hadn’t gone deep, and would leave only a minor, if annoying, injury, but that wasn’t Claude’s intention.

Before she’d even had a chance to reach for the offending arrow, Edelgard gasped, her axe dropping to the ground at her feet. She followed it soon after, collapsing to her knees and clutching a suddenly limp arm.

“What…” she gasped, “What is this?”

A fairly new spell of Claude’s designed to drastically weaken its target; it was the small spell he had tried to use on Dimitri back at the monastery, and while it had failed to affect a vampire it seemed to work well on humans.

“Turns out you were right,” grinned Claude. “I am a witch. And I really am sorry about doing this, honestly I am, but I did tell you to just let me go. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Dimitri, however, didn’t budge, not until Claude grabbed him by wrist and made a feeble attempt to try and drag him away before Edelgard decided she was still close enough to take a swipe at his kneecaps.

“Come _on_, Dimitri! We have to get out of here!”

There was a last moment of hesitation before Dimitri finally turned and began to follow Claude, already sprinting towards the edge of town. Edelgard’s furious voice rang out after them.

“I _will_ find you! I will hunt you down and _destroy you!_”

Dimitri’s long strides soon overtook Claude, but he made sure not to go too far ahead as they ran, darting through the streets and into the woods at the town’s border. Dodging errant rocks and stray shrubs was no easy task, and slowed their pace significantly, but there were no crashing sounds behind them, no shouts or calls, so Claude felt it was safe to assume they weren’t being followed. They pressed on just in case – getting as much distance between them and the town as possible was certainly in their best interests right now – for close to an hour before Claude was gasping and aching, his ankle protesting painfully where the strange blade had cut into it.

“Hey, D-Dimitri…” he spluttered, “I think… we can… stop now…”

They slowed to a walk, and that at least was enough for Claude to get his breath back, but Dimitri didn’t stop; he kept walking at a steady pace, not even looking back at Claude. Ignoring the pain shooting through his leg with each step, Claude followed him until the exhaustion and agony simply became too much.

“Ok, I think we’re good here. Let’s stop and catch our breath for a second.”

Dimitri kept walking. He gave no sign to acknowledge that he had even heard Claude speak. Irritated, Claude summoned up the last dregs of his energy to close the gap between them and step in front of Dimitri, forcing him to stop.

“Hey, did you hear me? I need to take a break or I’m gonna collapse!”

But Dimitri was grunted and pushed past him, leaving Claude with a stunned look on his face.

“Where are you _going?!_ Dimitri!”

“_Don’t follow me_,” he growled, not even bothering to look over his shoulder.

Claude just blinked. “What? What are you…? Dimitri, hey!” His legs screamed as he ran the few steps he needed to catch up and stand in front of Dimitri again; this time he didn’t even stop and simply shoved Claude aside. Claude grabbed his arm. “_Stop that!_ Just… Just stop and tell me what’s going on, alright?”

“No.”

Keeping up with his stride was a struggle, but Claude was stubborn.

“Was it something to do with that hunter, Edelgard? She recognised you, right? From what?”

“_Go away_.”

“Not until you talk to me, dammit! Look, maybe I won’t understand, but if you don’t even try to tell me – _agh!_ _Shit!_”

Claude’s leg gave out on him and he fell, landing heavily on his shoulder in the fallen twigs and leaf-litter. One glance down at the leg in-question showed him that the injury was worse than he’d first thought; blood had soaked through his trousers just above his ankle, and gashes across his skin were visible through the torn material. He swore and looked up, expecting Dimitri to have made it a good distance away from him by now, but instead he was just standing there, staring at the trees ahead of him, his shoulders slumped.

“I’m going back to the monastery,” he said after a moment, his voice low.

“What?!” Claude sat up. “Why? What about the promise I made? I said I’d help you be human again, and I can’t do that if you’re hiding in some busted-up church!”

“You can’t,” snapped Dimitri. “I can never be human. Not after what I’ve done.”

There was a rustle and a few unhappy grunts as Claude stood, leaning on a nearby tree.

“Says who? Those hunters? They wanted to kill me, too – does that mean _I’m_ a monster?”

A growl low in Dimitri’s throat. “That’s not… You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me, dammit!” Claude staggered forward a step and beat his fist against Dimitri’s shoulder once. “Quit being so damn sullen all the time and just talk to me already! You’re right, I can’t help – not if you don’t try and open up a little.” Another beat of his fist. “You don’t have to go through all this alone. Whether you like it or not, I don’t plan on giving up on you, so it’ll make it easier on both of us if you just…” _beat _“open” _beat_ “up!”

He raised his fist for a last, meagre blow, but Dimitri caught his arm. He still refused to look at Claude, but he did at least turn slightly towards him.

“Fine. When we fought at the monastery, you mentioned you had… _researched_ me. What did you learn?”

Claude lowered his arm, trying to block out the throbbing across his hand from punching Dimitri’s armour. It took him a good minute to think back and remember.

“Hm. I read through a number of reported vampire attacks. There had been an incident nine years ago, in the north of Faerghus, with only one survivor; a man named Dimitri, who disappeared a couple of days later.” He swayed a little where he stood, his leg threatening to give out on him again. “This Dimitri was reported to be of noble birth and have blonde hair, which matched the sightings I’d heard in town: a blonde-haired vampire with a regal bearing. I didn’t know for certain, though, until you reacted to hearing that name.”

Dimitri nodded, his eye downcast, his voice wavering slightly. “A name I had not heard for many years. We were travelling to a neighbouring region, my parents and I, and a close friend of mine, when… when we were attacked. There was only a single vampire, but there might as well have been a dozen – we didn’t even have time to fight back. Glenn, my friend, tried to protect me, but we were helpless against that _thing_.

“I’m not sure how I survived – if it was just mere chance or if I’d been spared – but some time later I was waking up in an infirmary somewhere. Only… I wasn’t… quite awake.” His tone hushed, and Claude had to strain to hear him. “I could hear, and feel, but I couldn’t speak or even breathe, and I couldn’t feel my heart beating. There were voices, nearby, talking about… about how I had died. I was too scared to move. They… They said my body was cursed… that they should… _burn_ me…” He shuddered. “I should have let them. Looking back, I wish I had, but I was so afraid that… As soon as I was alone, I ran.

I hid in the woods, terrified that if anyone found me they would try to burn me like the healers had said… then the pain started. All over my body, but worst in my veins. It was like… growing pains, but everywhere at all once. Any food I ate made me sick, the sunlight burned my skin, but I also grew taller, my smell and hearing became sharper… and so did my teeth. I realised then what had happened to me…”

“You’d become a vampire,” Claude breathed, having found a new tree to lean on. “How long did it take?”

“I’m not certain,” Dimitri shook his head. “Everything was… like a nightmare. Unreal. Then, one night, I came across a group of soldiers, not far from a small village and… I…”

His voice faltered completely and he bit his lip; his arms and shoulders had begun to tremble.

“I… don’t remember what happened. Everything just… went dark… When I… When I came back to myself, I… There was…”

A red dawn over a barren clearing. Three soldiers and a lake of blood. A pile of corpses and Dimitri standing at the foot of it. The images Claude had seen in his sleep hadn’t been entirely fictional.

“The soldiers were dead. There was… blood everywhere. All over me, too. Covering my hands… my face… in my mouth…”

Gagging on an endless torrent of red liquid pouring from his lips.

“I ran to the village but… but they… I…” Dimitri closed his eye. He struggled to regain control as another shudder shook him, clutching at his arms to try and steady himself. “They were all dead, too. And I… I killed them… I killed all of them…” A sob broke through his words, then he suddenly stiffened. His eye opened, his shoulders straightened. “It was a week before the hunters found me there. Edelgard was among them. She and I fought, and her axe took my eye. Then I fled, and eventually found the monastery atop Garreg Mach.”

So that was the connection. It was no surprise to Claude now why Edelgard had become so furious at the sight of Dimitri. And it did a lot to explain Dimitri’s poor opinion of himself…

“That…” Claude had to clear his throat and start again. “That was a long time ago, Dimitri. You didn’t understand what had happened to you, how to control yourself…”

For the first time, Dimitri turned and looked at him, and Claude struggled not to wilt under the anger in that gaze.

“I will _not_ make excuses for myself. I slaughtered innocent people, an _entire village_ of them. Don’t you see, Claude? Only a _monster_ would do such a thing. Only a cowardly beast would try and hide from such horrendous misdeeds. I_ cannot_ be saved. My soul is far too bloodied to _ever_ go back to who I was. I won’t keep running. I’ll go back to Edelgard and let her put an end to me once and for all, as I should have done nine years ago.”

Lurching off the tree, Claude put his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders as if to hold him in place. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you _dare_ do that, ok? I won’t act like what you did was ok but it’s _the past_, Dimitri. You regret it, don’t you? What happened to those villagers?” Dimitri just nodded, watching Claude carefully. “See? That regret is what proves to me that you’re not a monster. When you asked me to kill you, at the monastery? That’s when I _knew_. I knew there was someone in there worth trying to save, Dimitri.

“In all this time we’ve been together you’ve never tried to kill me, even when you could have. You never tried to hurt anyone – you hurt _yourself_ to avoid doing that. And last night, when you had the perfect chance to _be_ a monster, you fought it.” He lifted his injured leg. “You haven’t even noticed that I’ve been bleeding this whole time! Why? Because you’re not just some blood-thirsty beast. You still have a soul, and a heart, and a conscious, and you’re using it to try and be better. That makes you better than plenty of humans I know.

“Listen, Dimitri, I… I _care_ about you.” Claude’s voice cracked a little as he spoke those words. “If you… If you went and got yourself killed I… I…” Dammit, why was this so hard all of a sudden? “I consider you a friend, Dimitri. Yes, a friend. Not a vampire, or a monster, or anything else. And you and I aren’t so different, in a lot of ways. We’re outsiders, judged by the rest of the world for what we are and not _who_ we are. Because of that, I… I… I don’t want to lose you…”

Dimitri was silent for a very long time, staring down at Claude’s bleeding leg, his face completely blank. Was he finally listening to Claude’s words? Had Claude, at long last, managed to break through to him? This could be the very first step to peeling back the many layers Dimitri shrouded himself in, or it could be the moment that sealed Dimitri’s decision to leave. And where would that leave Claude, without Dimitri at his side? Lonely once again, without a soul in the world who could have a chance of understanding him.

Then Dimitri took a long breath in – a strange gesture considering Dimitri’s revelation that vampires didn’t need to breathe – and sighed heavily.

“You’re injured,” he said quietly.

Claude looked down at his leg. “Yeah. A bit of magic will heal it up in no time, I’m just a bit low on energy right now. Is it bothering you?”

“…No.”

He sounded surprised.

“Can we rest now?”

“Alright.

“And are you still going to leave?”

A pause. “I… don’t think so.”

“Good.”

Releasing Dimitri’s shoulders, Claude lowered himself to the ground, his back against the tree he’d been leaning on earlier. The bleeding from his leg was steady but not terrible; he took some linen from one of his satchels and began to wrap it around the wound.

“Let’s wait here for a bit so I can get some wind back, then we’ll head south for that village. And if at any point I wake up and you’re not here, Dimitri, I… I’ll track you down myself, alright?”

Dimitri slowly sat down beside Claude and nodded. “Alright.”

On a whim, Claude shuffled closer to him, so that he was leaning against Dimitri instead, and felt unreasonably happy when Dimitri didn’t move away. There was something indescribably kind about the way Dimitri gingerly reached out to place a hand on Claude’s knee, a small gesture of comfort – or maybe of gratitude. Either way, it made Claude smile.

“I made you a promise that I would help you, friend. I plan to keep it.”

Another pause.

“Thank you… friend.”


End file.
